Everyone Has A Dark Side
by CH4M3L30N
Summary: AU. Admittedly very dark. T for dark themes and possibly romance.


**Okay, I understand fully what I am doing. I'm saying that I'm gonna commit to this story, and this time, hopefully I'm gonna go through with it. I'm not giving up on any of my other stories. I'm putting them on hold for now, kind of like Fall Out Boy, and I'm doing a project now that has nothing to do with them, like Patrick Stump's solo album Soul Punk, or Pete Wentz's band Black Cards. **

**This story is a really different concept that I've been kind of obsessed with working on forever and I finally worked up the courage to write about. As much as it's a very interesting subject for me to write, it's also, in some ways, a very personal topic to talk about, so please bear with me. This is by far the story which I'm feeding off personal experience the most, so excuse me if I get a bit touchy when I write replies and such.**

**This chapter is just an introduction of sorts, and it probably won't explain a single thing, so don't worry if it doesn't make sense. I'm not really revealing anything important to the story for a reason. It was written just for you guys to understand where the main character is coming from, mentally. Hopefully the rest of the story will help you guys understand this much better.**

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You know how sometimes your life seems perfect, and then suddenly it's not anymore? It's kind of like when it seems like only bad things happen to you. Well anyways, back to the point. I do. I guess I would have to know, considering how I got here.

I guess I should explain. Actually, scratch that, I _have_ to explain. I _need_ to get this off my chest, I've reached a stage in my own self-pity that means that I can't even stand the thought of not telling someone. I can't bear the weight of this alone anymore. I can't bear it at all, in fact. Honestly, I never could once I'd found out. This is why I'm writing this. I'm writing this so that once this is over, I can be free. But that's actually where you're wrong. I will never be free of the guilt. My hands are still stained with the blood they made be shed, and some stains never really do come out.

Once I'm done writing this, I'm going to print this and send it to my mother, and then I'm going to hurl myself off the Empire State Building, and for the first time in my life, I'm not going to do anything to stop it.

How stupid was I to think that I could learn to control this? The answer to that would be very stupid, in case you were wondering. Do you want to know what's the worst part? It's not the fact that I know now that I can't control it. It's not even the nightmares that have plagued me ever since. It's worse than both of those combined. It's just knowing that I will never forget. I remember the face of every single person I've killed. I remember every single scenario my twisted mind came up with and that my lips had spouted without a second thought into the world. I remember all the people who hung on to every word I said and followed them without a moment to say no. It wasn't like they could help it anyways.

I don't understand how anyone who has this... this... this _thing_... can still stand themselves. I don't get how they can even want to be alive anymore. If they wanted to do humanity a favor, they'd do exactly what I'm going to and kill themselves before they kill anybody else. Back when I was still in school, my mother told me that I would be fine, that I would learn to control what used to control me, and therefore I would be able to become a better person. But nope. That didn't happen, it didn't happen at all. It was quite different, what actually happened. I began slipping back in, and this time, it was almost impossible to pull me out. When I woke up in a hospital, I was told that I spent nearly a year prisoner to my own self. Something not quite as odd but just as off-putting though, was how I couldn't remember what had happened, but I could remember their faces. I could remember what I'd tell them to do.

Even though I kept being reassured that it wasn't me, and that it was not by any means my fault, I still feel 100% as guilty as a normal person would. You know, anybody in this situation would have said that they just wanted to get better, but you want to know something? There is no "getting better". There are just distractions to keep you from returning to old habits. I've heard they have this terrible thing for being hard to extinguish. I'd have said kill, but killing is easy, and I'd proven that more than enough in my lifetime.

Anyone that knows me would know that I'm not to be trusted with my own mind.

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**Wow. Okay, so that was sort of painful to write about. It also felt really good, though. Moral of this chapter: my mind is a really scary place and the past is better left that way. **

**This story is the one story where I'm not going to reply to people who ask me to update soon. It's hard to write about something on this high of a personal level, and it takes time to break down my own walls, even if I was the one who put them up. That is actually sort of a hint to what comes next in the story - about 5 chapters from now.**

**Anyways, I really need you guys to review this and tell me what you guys think. I want to know if you guys think this is too dark, if maybe I shouldn't publish this, or if I should just alter a few things and publish this as original fiction, what should I do? **

**I'm sorry for not updating as often as I wish I would, and I'm sorry it's so short. It's hard to talk about, I guess.**

**~JOZL**


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